


Face Value

by forheart



Series: minjoon bingo [2]
Category: GOT7, TWICE (Band), 방탄소년단 | Bangtan Boys | BTS
Genre: Dubious Consent, High School AU, M/M, Underage - Freeform, everyone thinks we're doing it, ish kind of, so be careful, this deals with some intense stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 18:52:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9085354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forheart/pseuds/forheart
Summary: Growing up, Seokjin had been the youngest one in his family, but his mom's best friend from college had a son, Jimin, two years his junior that he considered a brother. So when Jimin develops a crush on Seokjin's homeroom teacher, he thinks its adorable. But later Seokjin has his doubts... (fulfilling the Everyone Thinks We're Doing It bingo square)





	

Seokjin wiped the sweat off his forehead. Exhaustion seeped into his bones like an old, familiar friend. He was too tired to change entirely out of his practice clothes. He only took off his shin guards, and traded his cleats for his pink pumas. Thin arms wrapped around Seokjin’s neck and a warm chest pressed to his sweat filled back.

“You’re too hot,” Seokjin chided.

“Whose fault is that, captain,” Jimin mumbled against the back of Seokjin’s neck.

Seokjin chuckled. He fitted his hands under Jimin’s butt and adjusted the boy so that he was in a more comfortable position. “We play against North high next week. Last year they won district. We can’t let them beat us twice in a row.”

Jimin hugged Seokjin tighter. He whined, “But I’m tired. And have bruises on my back from Jungkook’s crazy tackle.”

Seokjin sighed, “I’ll talk to Jungkook about that.”

He dropped Jimin in front of his locker.  Jimin gave a tired pout, one where his eyes weren’t even open all the way, and his round cheeks made his bottom lip stick out more than usual. Seokjin wouldn’t say it out loud, but it’s the cutest pout he’s ever seen.

(Seokjin heard Yoongi’s voice in the back of his head, asking “Cutest? Or second cutest?” with a pout of his own. Seokjin would concede and say second cutest. Even imaginary Yoongi always won against Seokjin.)

“We have to hurry. I need to stop by my homeroom,” Seokjin said. He checked the time on his phone.

Jimin took off his shirt and slipped on his favorite hoodie, which was Seokjin’s old navy Puma hoodie that he grew out of when he was 14. It was still long enough to cover Jimin’s hands. He sighed. “Did you leave your glasses there again, hyung?”

“Yes, hurry or we’ll miss the last bus,” Seokjin said. He pulled Jimin up by the hood of his sweater. Jimin groaned, but he locked up his duffel bag, picked up his backpack and followed Seokjin. He shook off his sweater paw and held onto the extra long Mario key chain on one of the zippers of Seokjin’s backpack. One that Seokjin put on because Jimin was small and short and was easy to lose in a crowd, but he also had a habit of reaching out for people.

The lights of Seokjin’s classroom were on. He sighed in relief. Mr. Kim curved over his desk, his tongue peeked out in concentration as he graded papers. Seokjin knocked on the door.

Mr. Kim made eye contact with Seokjin. He sighed, “Did you forget something again?”

Seokjin felt Jimin straighten up behind him. Seokjin chuckled lightly, “You got me, teacher. I left my reading glasses.”

Mr. Kim ran a hand through his white hair. “I’m going to start chargin you for storage.”

Seokjin laughed. He walked to his desk in the back of the classroom. He dug through the contents of his desk and pulled out his reading glasses. Jimin still stood at the doorway. His eyes wide as he watched Seokjin. Seokjin squinted. Jimin kept his stare, his eyes briefly flitted to Mr. Kim, then they were back on Seokjin.

Seokjin smiled. “Mr. Kim, have you met my friend?”

Mr. Kim looked at Jimin. Jimin froze under his gaze. Mr. Kim spoke, “No I don’t believe I have.”

“Mr. Kim, I’d like to introduce you to Park Jimin. He’s a first year, but he’s already on the starting line up as our Stopper. He’s also one of the top five in his class, and wants to go to Med School.” Seokjin pushed Jimin toward the desk, “Park Jimin, this is my homeroom teacher, Kim Namjoon.”

Mr. Kim stood up and held out his hand to Jimin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Park.”

Jimin had to pull back his sleeve to shake Mr. Kim’s hand. His large hand completely covered Jimin’s smaller one. Jimin stared at the ground as he spoke, “Likewise. I mean it’s an honor to meet the most esteemed teacher at our school.”

“Oh, you’ve heard of me?” Mr. Kim asked.

“I read your dissertation, and watched your ted talk video. You’re a very smart man,” Jimin’s voice grew smaller as he spoke. He realized he had been holding Mr. Kim’s hand for longer than socially acceptable. He pulled his hand away. Seokjin bit his bottom lip to stop from laughing.

Mr. Kim smiled hard enough to dimple. “I didn’t realize I was that famous. If you have any questions about the research I conducted in college, you’re more than welcome in my classroom. After classes of course.”

Jimin bowed, “Of course.”

“I apologize Mr. Kim. But we’ll miss the last bus home if we don’t leave right now,” Seokjin said.

“Have a good night boys,” Mr. Kim waved.

Seokjin waved back.

Jimin bowed again, then ran out of the classroom.

Once they reached the bus stop, Seokjin burst into laughter. Jimin beat on his arm with tiny fists, he whined, “Why did you do that?”

“I didn’t realize that was your type,” Seokjin laughed. He let Jimin hit him. “Older, distinguished gentleman. I could have introduced you to some of my dad’s divorced coworkers.”

“Shut up,” Jimin whined. He stopped hitting Seokjin, he leaned against his captain’s shoulder. “I saw him at the school opening ceremony, but that was my first time really seeing him.”

Seokjin hummed.

“He’s handsome in person,” Jimin mumbled.

“Not my type,” Seokjin said.

“Good,” Jimin said. He smiled into Seokjin’s arm. Seokjin giggled. Cute.

 

 

 

 

Seokjin drew soccer plays on the back of his graded test. He glared at the paper.

“What’s wrong?” Jimin asked. Jimin sat across from him. They were tucked into one of these indented wall windows on the third floor. Seojin’s large lunch box was open and shared between them.

Seokjin huffed, “I’m trying to figure out how to thwart North high’s Jongin.”

Jimin scoffed, “Good luck. The kid’s dad was the top scorer in the league for ten years. I bet that kid’s been playing since before he could walk.”

“Shhh,” Seokjin blindly pushed Jimin’s face away, “Trust your hyung to solve this.”

Jimin giggled.

Seokjin’s phone vibrated. It was a text from Yoongi. He complained about his English teacher.

Seokjin’s face broke into a large smile.

“Is it from that guy in Daegu who is totally your boyfriend,” Jimin asked.

“Crazy talk,” Seokjin said, tone joking. He quickly typed up a reply.

Jimin huffed. “It’s not fair. We both went to that academic camp, and you’re the only one who found a cute guy.”

“What happened to Taehyung?” Seokjin asked.

Jimin sighed. He leaned back, his back hit the wall. “He’s too childish. I need a mature man.”

Seokjin looked past Jimin. He saw Mr. Kim walking down the hall. He smiled. “Here comes your mature man.”

Jimin froze.

Mr. Kim stopped in front of their window. “I hope you’re studying for the test this Friday.”

“Unless the test is on soccer formations, no,” Seokjin said with a cheeky smile.

Mr. Kim sighed. He turned to Jimin, “Park, one of my colleagues is a Professor at Seoul University, he sent me his paper on enzymes to edit. If you’d like, I can show it to you.”

Jimin looked at the floor, “I’d be interested.”

Mr. Kim smiled, another dimpled smile, “Do you have time after school today?”

Jimin nodded.

Seokjin spoke, “Practice today is cancelled for independent study.”

“Excellent, I’ll see you after school Park. And Kim, please study more. If you raise your percentage by five my class will be number one in the grade.”

“I’ll work hard,” Seokjin said. He gave Namjoon a thumb’s up.

Namjoon did it back. Then he left.

Jimin’s face was bright red.

Seokjin smiled. He texted Yoongi about how young crushes were cute.

Jimin covered his cheeks with his hands.

Seokjin laughed.

 

 

 

 

 

They won the game against North High. Jungkook scored the game winning goal with three minutes to spare. When the referee blew the final whistle the whole team dog piled on top of him.

Seokjin pulled everyone off their youngest player. He held out his hand. Jungkook grabbed it. Seokjin pulled Jungkook into his arms, “Congratulations. Rookie of the year.”

Jungkook wiped away his tears.

He ran to his mom in the stands.

Seokjin saw Jimin. He typed rapidly on his phone.

Seokjin shook Jimin’s hair, “Did you tell your mom?”

“Yeah, she’s taking us out to barbecue when we get back,” Jimin said. He leaned against Seokjin’s choulder.

Seokjin wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Seokjin looked at the goalkeeper on the other team, he stared at the two of them. Seokjin pointed at Jimin. Their goalkeeper blushed, but nodded his head yes. Seokjin gave him a thumb’s up, then released Jimin. Jimin looked at Seokjin with an expression of confusion. Seokjin pointed at the goalkeeper, “He wants to talk to you.”

The goalkeeper jogged up to them. Seokjin stepped away.

He called Yoongi to describe how they won the game. Yoongi said congratulations. But he really needed to finish his essay right now. Seokjin understood. He hung up.

Jimin wrapped his arms around Seokjin’s waist. Seokjin looked up at the other team’s Goalkeeper. He looked dejected.

“Did he want your number?” Seokjin asked.

“Yeah, but I didn’t give it to him,” Jimin mumbled to Seokjin’s back.

Seokjin frowned. Jimin fitted himself against Seokjin’s side. They started walking toward the bus.Seokjin asked, “Why not? He’s a third year, and he’s tall, and he’s a good player. What more do you want?”

Jimin shrugged, “I’m not looking right now.”

Seokjin asked, “Because you like Mr. Kim?”

Jimin nodded.

Seokjin paused, “You do know he’s 20 years older than you.”

“He’s only 18 years older than me,” Jimin said.

An uneasy weight settled itself on Seokjin’s shoulders.

They stepped on the bus.

 

 

 

 

Mr. Kim handed back their tests. Seokjin received a 98.

“Congratulations,” Mr. Kim said. He smiled at Seokjin, no dimples, just a small smile. “If you keep improving like that, my class be number one in no time.”

Seokjin beamed up at him. “Don’t tell me I’m the only thing holding back your class.”

“No, but everyone is improving,” Mr. Kim said.

Seokjin felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. “We have a good teacher,” Seokjin said.

Mr. Kim continued walking down the row to hand back tests.

Seokjin sneakily took his phone out and checked the message. It was a text from Yoongi. Seokjin raised his hand, “Can I go to the bathroom?”

Mr. Kim looked at the stack of papers, he would be handing out papers for a while, “Sure,” he agreed.

Seokjin ran up to the roof and called Yoongi. Yoongi told him all about the previous night where he participated in slam poetry at the obscure downtown coffee shop. Apparently a popular blogger had been there, and praised Yoongi as the best performer of the night. All of his youtube videos racked up tens of thousands of views within hours.

“Congratulations,” Seokjin said.

“Thank you,” Yoongi said. Seokjin could hear the smile in his voice. Seokjin’s face burned.

“Is there anything new over there?” Yoongi asked.

Seokjin thought of the uneasy feeling he had after their last game, after talking to Jimin. Seokjin shrugged it off.

“Nothing new,” Seokjin said.

“You sure?”

“I have to go back to class. I’ve been gone for too long as it is,” Seokjin said.

“We’re still going to skype this weekend. Right?” Yoongi’s tone sounded uncertain.

Seokjin sighed, “I’ll try. But regional tournaments are coming up soon.”

“Sure. Don’t stress,” Yoongi said in a clipped voice.

He hung up.

Seokjin sighed.

He walked back to his classroom. Everyone had been released for lunch, but there were two people in the classroom. Mr. Kim, of course, it was classroom after all, and a student. A very familiar, very small student, who wore a school uniform that was too tight around his thighs and too loose on the shoulders. Jimin, who was two years too young to have Mr. Kim as a teacher. He hid a laugh behind his hands. Mr. Kim looked down at him with a dimpled smile.

“Jiminnie, what are you doing here?” Seokjin asked.

Jimin and Mr. Kim both turned to Seokjin. Jimin’s smile was so wide his eyes were curved into crescents, “Hyung, you were late to our lunch spot so I came here to find you,” he answered.

“Sorry, I was talk-” Seokjin remembered that his teacher was in the classroom- “using the bathroom.”

“Do you have a stomach virus?” Mr. Kim asked, obviously aware that Seokjin had lied.

“Just a bit of indigestion,” Seokjin answered.

Mr. Kim glared.

Jimin intersected, “I was telling about an article about a hormone that’s being researched at an Australian lab.” He practically bounced as he spoke, he then turned to Mr. Kim, looked him in the eyes, and asked, “Maybe we could discuss it more after school.”

Mr. Kim smiled down on him, “My classroom will be open.”

Jimin beamed. 

Seokjin felt that weight on his shoulders get heavier. He tugged on Jimin’s sleeve and said, “We should go, if we want to lunch on time.”

Jimin easily gave in, but he waved good bye. Mr. Kim waved back. Seokjin pulled Jimin down the hall.

 

 

 

 

Practice ended early on account of rain. The manager, an enthusiastic first year with highlights  in her named Dahyun, had been out for the past week with bad pneumonia. Seokjin volunteered to stay in the supply room after practice to cover some of her duties.

Seokjin squinted at the clipboard, he had forgotten his reading glasses in his homeroom classroom, again. All of the soccer balls were accounted for, though some of them needed to be pumped. One warm up jacket was missing. He couldn’t read the name of who last checked it out. He sighed. He would do it tomorrow, when he could actually make out Dahyun’s handwriting. He pumped up the deflated balls, untangled the nights, and locked up the supply room.

The rain was relentless. Seokjin pulled his hood as far as it would go and made sure his iphone was safely protected in his pockets. He ran from the gym to the school building. He climbed up the stairs. His homeroom lights were still on. He sighed in relief.

He heard voices.

He froze.

Seokjin hid in the shadow of the stairwell. He looked down at the end of the hallway. The door was open. His teacher stood over a much smaller person. He giggled.

Seokjin felt ice run down his veins. He recognized that laugh. _Jimin._

Mr. Kim stroked Jimin’s hair. Jimin easily leaned into the touch. Mr. Kim wrapped his other arm around JImin’s waist and pulled him into the classroom. He closed the door behind them. Seokjin heard the unmistakable click of the lock.

Seokjin dropped down to the stairs. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe.

 

 

 

 

Jimin munched happily on the omelette Seokjin made for lunch. His cheeks curved up with each bite.

Seokjin sat across from him on their wall window. His food box sat in his lap, untouched. He watched his friend swallow down every bite. Seokjin searched Jimin’s face, then went down to his neck. Jimin wore a turtleneck under his uniform blazer.

“Were you cold this morning?” Seokjin asked.

Jimin nodded his head. “It was freezing when I woke up.”

Really, Seokjin had woken up in a cold sweat. He didn’t mention that.

He leaned against the window. “It’s warmed up. Why don’t you take it off?”

“Too much effort,” Jimin said. He checked the time on his phone. He started packing up their lunchboxes. He didn’t say anything about how Seokjin didn’t eat. Jimin pulled on Seokjin’s arm. “Come on hyung, I’ll walk you to your classroom.”

A flash of a memory, Mr. Kim with his hand in Jimin’s hair.

Seokjin pulled his arm away. “I’d rather walk you to your classroom,” he said.

Jimin snorted, “My class is on the other side of the school. Yours is at the end of the hall, come on hyung.”

He sounded sure of himself. So confident. Seokjin swallowed.

They walked to the classroom. Mr. Kim was already, he stood in front of the chalkboard and wrote down the chemical equations that they would be learning that day. Jimin’s whole face lit up when he saw Mr. Kim. Seokjin felt the weight on his shoulders grow heavier.

“Good afternoon, Namj- I mean Mr. Kim,” Jimin said. His voice study, tone solid, nothing like the meek mess he had been when he first met the older teacher. Seokjin noticed this, he hated that he noticed this.

Mr. Kim saw Jimin. He smiled, his dimpled smile, the one that he only gave Seokjin once when he got a 100 on a test. “How are you Park?”

“I’m well. I have to got my class now,” Jimin chuckled.

“I imagine Mrs. Jung would be upset if you were late,” Mr. Kim easily agreed, “Bye Park.”

Jimin waved. He hugged Seokjin, and ran off.

Seokjin stared at his teacher, a man he had trusted, and went to for advice, and joked with for the last six months.

Mr. Kim looked at Seokjin, who still stood at the doorway. “Is there something wrong Seokjin?”

A flash of a memory, of a too fond smile directed at 16 year old Jimin. Seokjin answered, “Nothing Sir.”

Mr. Kim seemed flustered and the sudden formal address. But Seokjin walked to his desk before Namjoon had a chance to ask him more questions.

 

 

 

 

 

At practice they were doing a scrimmage, forwards versus defense. Jimin was a stopper, Seokjin was a sweeper, the goalkeeper was the only person closer to the goalpost than Seokjin. Seokjin squared his shoulders, he prepared himself for when Jungkook managed to dance around their defenders. Jimin charged towards Jungkook. He wore a turtleneck underarmour and a hruley t shirt over it.

Seokjin imagined Mr. Kim, one arm on Jimin’s forearm, rubbing circles into the skin, his other hand pulling down the turtleneck. His fat lips ghosting on Jimin’s skin, Jimin’s breath hitching, Mr. Kim- Namjoon- kissing the hickeys he already head there and adding another-

“Captain!”

Seokjin shook his head.

He saw Jungkook kick the all up in the air. Seokjin jumped, to try and head the ball away from the net.

Seokjin hit the top of the goalpost with his nose.

The ball was too high, it went over the net.

Seokjin lay on the floor, he clutched his nose. There was blood dripping down from it.

 

 

 

 

Dahyun held the ice pack to Seokjin’s nose. Seokjin took over and held it in place.

“What’s the first rule of practice?” Dahyun mused aloud.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Seokjin mumbled.

Dahyun tapped her chin in mock thought, “What is it that our Captain says at every practice?”

“Dahyunnie,” Seokjin growled in a warning tone.

“Pay attention to your surroundings,” Dahyun said, “now if only our captain listened to his own words.”

Seokjin glared up at her. She gave a cheeky smile, her ponytail swayed behind her.

“I’m going to find a new manager,” Seokjin said.

“But, oppa, I’m your favorite,” she said.

“I’m going to replace with the cute Japanese student, Sana,” Seokjin said, voice muffled by his bloody nose, “Jackson has been looking for a legitimate reason to talk to her.”

“Oppa,” Dahyun cried out. She beat his back with small fists, “I didn’t mean it I’m sorry.”

Seokjin shook in laughter. He hurt his nose when he laughed, “Ow.”

“In all seriousness, that’s real bad. Reminds me of when BamBam got that concussion at the regional tournament last year.”

“You weren’t in high school yet,” Seokjin said.

“Jeongyeon was the manager then. She took me under her wing and taught me how to take care of you losers,” Dahyun said.

Seokjin glared, “I wonder if Sana can start tomorrow.”

“Oppa!” She punched his back more.

Seokjin laughed, cried, laughed, his face hurt bad.

Jjimin ran into the infirmary at that moment. He still wore his cleats, even though they weren’t allowed inside the school, “Hyung! Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, Jiminnie,” Seokjin said. He pulled the ice pack to show Jimin that he was fine. Jimin winced at the sight. Maybe Seokjin was not fine.

Jimin wet a paper towel and started to clean up Seokjin’s face, “Yoongi is going to kill you when he finds out.”

“What’s he going to do, send me passive aggressive text messages?” Seokjin teased. He flinched every time Jimin pressed too hard on his face.

“No. But he might take the train from Daegu and punch you in your stupid broken face,” Jimin laughed. He cleaned up Seokjin’s face. He threw away the paper towel.

Seokjin sighed. He lay down on the cot. His whole face hurt. He was going to be out for at least a week, maybe longer if it decided to swell.

“Did you leave your reading glasses in your homeroom again?” Jimin asked.

Seokjin’s eyes widened in horror. He had. Seokjin covered his face with his arm, and muttered, with feeling, “Fuck.”

Dahyun shook her head at him.

Jimin giggled, “I’ll go get them for you. I needed to stop by there anyway.”

Seokjin felt that familiar ominous weight on his shoulders. He swallowed, “Thanks Jiminnie.”

“It’s not a problem. I’ll be back with our stuff,” Jimin said. Then he took off.

Dahyung waved at his retreated figure.  She patted Seokjin’s stomach. Seokjin looked up from under his arm.

“You’re practically Jimin’s older brother, right?” Dahyun asked.

“Yeah. Our mothers went to the same college,” Seokjin said. He had a bad feeling. “Why do you ask?”

“Have you heard the rumours that he’s sleeping with one of the teachers,” Dahyun said.

Seokjin froze. He tried to play it off, “Why would people say that?”

“He hangs around the school way after hours. And Bambam saw a bruise on Jimin’s back that did not look like it came from practice, it looked like a mouth,” Dahyun said, tone nonchalant, unaware that her every word made Seokjin’s face grow more pale. “My money is on his homeroom teacher, Mrs. Jung, but Bambam is convinced it’s Mr. Kim since they’re both science nerds.”

Seokjin grabbed the closest trashcan and threw up all of his stomach contents.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Seokjin sat at his desk, his biology textbook open to the pages on mitosis. The only light was that of the small desk lamp. He read over the paragraph. He read about how the spindles will separate will divert to opposite ends of the cell.

A flash of a memory. That sickeningly fond smile Namjoon gave Jimin, his eyes half lidded, his dimples on display. The soft smile Jimin gave back to Namjoon. The smile where his cheeks pull up, his eyes had turned to slits.

Seokjin blinked away the memory. He reread the paragraph. He read about how the spindles will separate will divert to opposite ends of the cell. And how the matter will follow the spindles.

A flash of a memory. When Mr. Kim placed his hand on Jimin’s shoulder, and left it there for the entirety of their conversation. And how Jimin had reached for Mr. Kim’s blazer jacket, as if by instinct, and pulled his hands back before they made contact.

Seokjin rubbed at his eyes, careful so as not to smudge his reading glasses. He reread the paragraph. He read about how the spindles will separate will divert to opposite ends of the cell. And how the matter will follow the spindles. And how the spindles will pull further and further apart until the cell membrane stretches to the point of separating.

A flash of a thought. A thought of Namjoon’s large hand enveloping Jimin’s small one as he tugs the smaller boy to him.  Jimin falls onto Namjoon’s chest. Namjoon holds him there. He rubs small circles onto Jimin’s back, to try and calm down his racing heart.

“Damn it!” Seokjin slammed the textbook closed. He took off his reading glasses and rubbed at him eyes. No matter how hard he rubbed he could not erase the image of his young friend and his teacher.

His phone vibrated. It was a message from Yoongi. _Skype?_

Yeah. Skype. Seokjin wasn’t going to get any work done anyway. He opened up his laptop and waiting for the music and clicked start call immediately.

On the screen, there was Yoongi. Slightly blocky, slightly filtered, but still unmistakably Yoongi. Seokjin couldn’t stop the smile from breaking across his face.

“You look handsome,” Seokjin said earnestly.

Yoongi’s face reddened slightly. His hair was disarray, and he wore a hoodie with a pizza stain on the front. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Seokjin lied, “I just haven’t see you in a while.”

Yoongi fiddled with his hands, “Yeah well, you’ve been busy with soccer.”

Seokjin’s mind flashed to Jimin, and what Dahyung said in the med room.

“Seokjin!”

Seokjin blinked away the image. He looked at the screen. Yoongi’s expression was one of concern. “It’s more than that, isn’t it.”

Seokjin couldn’t find his voice, “…I.”

“Look, I’m tired of talking to half of my boyfriend. So tell me what the fuck is wrong or I’m breaking up right now,” Yoongi said.

Seokjin’s heart dropped. He ran his fingers through his hair. “It’s not something you can fix.”

Yoongi glared. He motioned at the screen, “When we started this you were the one that told me we had to communicate, otherwise this would never work. I’ve been trying, god knows I’ve tried.”

Seokjin laughed at that. He remembered the first awkward month, when Yoongi would only send one text a day, and Seokjin began to wonder if their romance had just been a fit of summer camp passion. Now Yoongi regularly sends selfies.

“Relationship means I’m willing to listen to the good stuff and the bad stuff. So please share with me the bad stuff. Including the bandage over your nose, don’t think I can’t see it through the screen.”

Seokjin laughed again. Tears pooled in his eyes. “Jimin said you would take a train from Daegu and punch me in the face for this.”

“I would if you had told me about it.”

They both laughed. Seokjin had missed this, how easy it was to talk to Yoongi. Even if Yoongi talked to no one else, he talked to Seokjin. Which had been nice since Taehyung had absorbed all of Jimin’s attention at the time in his attempt at wooing the younger boy.

Too bad Taehyung hadn’t been Jimin’s type.

Seokjin froze again. He felt that heavy weight rest on his shoulders.

“Whatever it is, it’s eating at you. So spill.”

Seokjin wiped his brow. He took a deep breath. And he started from the beginning, from Jimin’s first crush on Mr. Kim.

“At the time I thought it was cute. Everyone gets a harmless crush on their teacher at one point or another. It’s not supposed to be reciprocated!”

Then Seokjin told Yoongi about the articles. About how Jimin would go to the classroom after practice. About how Jimin almost called Seokjin’s teacher by his fucking first name. About that awful night when Seokjin something he shouldn’t have and how it’s been eating away at him ever since. And how he felt it was all his fault because he had been that introduced them in the first place.

Seokjin finished his story. He rubbed at his eyes.

Yoongi sat wide eyed on the other side of the screen. He reached out, then pulled back. He licked his lips. He spoke. “The first thing you should do is talk to Jimin directly. You need him to confirm what it looks like you already know.”

“And then what. What if I’m right?”

Yoongi took a deep breath. “You convince him to end it.”

Seokjin knew that. He didn’t want it to come to that. “And what if he refuses?”

“Tell an adult.”

 

 

 

 

Seokjin watched practice from the sideline, coach refused to let him play until the swelling on his nose went down. He watched Jimin run through drills with Jungkook. He ruffled their youngest members hair.

He wore a turtleneck to practice every day for the past two weeks.

Seokjin chewed on his bottom lip.

Practice ended. Seokjin waited outside of the locker room. He hid under the awning, it had started to rain. Jimin was one of the first to leave. He still wore the turtleneck. But he wore his favorite oversized navy puma sweater, the one Seokjin had given him when he outgrew it. It’s six years old. It was less for warmth and more for familiarity. The sleeves were so long that they covered Jimin’s hands. Seokjin had to look down to look at Jimin. He had always been small, and judging by his dad, he would continue to be small.

Seokjin had been the youngest in his family. Jimin had been the closest thing he had to a younger brother. And Jimin was the oldest in his family. Seokjin had been the closest thing he had to an older brother. He had always gone to Seokjin for advice, and confided in him.

Jimin peered curiously up at Seokjin. “Hyung is something wrong?”

Seokjin thought about Mr. Kim, with his hand on the back of Jimin’s neck.

“Are you sleeping with Mr. Kim?”

The rain intensified. Big fat drops beat against the concrete.

Seokjin looked down at Jimin, his expression hard.

Jimin’s face faltered. He pulled an uneven smile, “That’s crazy hyung. He’s a teacher and I’m a student.”

“I know there are laws, but that doesn’t stop older men from praying on young boys,” Seokjin said.

Jimin glared at Seokjin. “I’m not a boy. I’m sixteen, I can make my own decisions.”

“Yes you’re sixteen, but you still have a lot to learn, and a lot of mistakes to make!”

“I’m number one in my class! I know how to take care of myself!” Jimin shouted.

Seokjin was reminded of the time when he was eight, and Jimin was six, and Jimin didn’t want to wear his bike helmet when riding down a large steep hill. When Seokjin insisted on it Jimin had shouted that he was a big boy, he could take care of himself. He rode down the hill helmetless and fell off near the bottom. He needed ten stitches and two baby teeth had fallen out. The doctor said Jimin was lucky, he could have broken his neck. Jimin squeezed Seokjin’s hand as they fixed him up, and spent the next week hugging Seokjin and watching anime in his room.

“I don’t need you to look after me hyug!” Jiimin shouted. His breath labored.

He ran past Seokjin into the school.

Seokjin stepped into the rain. He appreciated it. He could pretend trhe moisture on his face was from the sky and not his eyes.

 

 

 

 

Mr. Kim stood in the front of the classroom, he explained avogadro’s number to a classroom full of bored third years.

Seokjin doodled Yoongi’s name over and over again on his notes.

The principal knocked on Mr. Kim’s classroom door. “Namjoon Kim, I apologize but I need you in my office immediately.”

Mr. Kim faltered, expression confused. He looked out into the classroom. Seokjin stared down at his page covered in a name, he could not meet his teacher’s gaze.

“Of course,” Mr. Kim said, “Students please study independently while I’m gone.” He followed the principal out of the classroom.

The students began whispering between each other. They threw out wide speculations ranging from Mr. Kim stole donations from the school funds to him being a meth cook to the gang in downtown Seoul.

Seokjin checked his cellphone. He had a message from his mother, it said she would text him when the meeting was over.

Seokjin closed his eyes and prayed.

 

 

 

 

 

Lunch time. Seokjin walked to the window. Jimin turned up at Seokjin when he heard footsteps. He stepped up to Seokjin and slapped him across the face. Seokjin didn’t stop him. He looked at Jimin. Sweet, young, studious, dedicated, precious Jimin. His eyes were swollen, he had been crying. He gritted his teeth together.

“I told you nothing happened,” Jimin said, his voice tight.

Seokjin swallowed, “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

Jimin looked him up and down. Then he stormed off down the hall.

Seokjin hid on the roof for the rest of the day.

 

 

 

 

 

Seokjin’s mom called him.

The attendees of the meeting had been the principal, the dean of the students, a cop, a lawyer, Seokjin’s mom, and Mr. Kim.

The principal told Mr. Kim that he had been accused of sleeping with one of the students. He had two options: resign quietly, or deny the claim. If he denied the accusation, they would test him and have to name the anonymous student that he or she would be interrogated and tested as well. It would be invasive, but it was proven that the claims were false, he would be free to teach and Seokjin’s mom would be sued for slandering his name.

Seokjin took a deep breath, he asked, “Which did Mr. Kim choose?”

A pause.

“He resigned.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With end of the year test coming up in two months the principal scrambled to find a replacement teacher on short notice. In the end he took over the lessons.

Jimin didn’t go to practice for a week.

Seokjin stood outside the door to the Park’s apartment. He knocked.

Mrs. Park answered. She gave him a sympathetic expression, as if she knew everything. She probably did. She and Seokjin’s mom had been best friends since college. She let him inside. “He’s in his room.”

“Thank you,” Seokjin said.

He walked there. The doors didn’t have locks. The Parks didn’t believe in privacy. Seokjin had never been more thankful. He turned the door handle and entered the room.

Jimin sat in the corner of his bed. He looked smaller than before, all curled up, taking as little space as possible. He wore the navy blue puma sweater. He wore basketball shorts. He turned to Seokjin. His eyes were swollen. He glared. “Get out!”

“Jiminnie-”

“No, you lost all the right to call me that!” Jimin said. He huffed. His eyes were watering. “How could you do this to me?”

“I didn’t do anything to you,” Seokjin said. He walked slowly, as if he was approaching a skittish animal. “If there was nothing improper going on he would have stayed.”

“Cut the bullshit Seokjin, I know you knew!” Jimin shouted.

That did it, the weight on Seokjin’s shoulders was gone. And now that it was, Seokjin missed it. He sighed, “No Jimin. He was your first time wasn’t he?”

Jimin cried. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. “He was my first everything. He was my first everything. My first ‘I love you,’ my first boyfriend, the first guy to look me in the eyes and tell me I love you,” he spoke between sobs. Seokjin sat down on the bed with him. He opened his arms. Jimin slid into his chest. Jimin sniffled. “And yeah, he was my first time too.”

“Did he force you into it?” Seokjin asked.

“He told me he loved me, how could I not,” Jimin said. He cried harder.

Seokjin stroked Jimin’s hair and rocked him. “Did he love you, or did he just say that he loved you?”

Jimin shook.

“You can never know with older men, you know that right?” Seokjin asked.

“I don’t need a lecture right now, hyung,” Jimin said, his voice small and tired.

“You’re right,” Seokjin said. He kissed the top of Jimin’s head. “I’m sorry.”

They stayed there. Seokjin let Jimin cry on him.

He was reminded of a six year old boy, with ten stitches on his forehead. Except this time the pain was invisible, and it would take a lot longer to recover.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Jimin spun his green tea latte in front of him. When he got it the barista had made him a leaf from the foam. Now it was a sad deflated shell of his former self.

Jimin pulled on his bangs. His hair was silver now. Taehyung had convinced Jimin to let him dye it for practice. He did a good job Jimin’s hair still feels thick and healthy.

The door to the café opened. Jimin looked up.

There stood Namjoon. Still tall, still dark, still recognizable after all these years. He wore a black turtleneck and blue jeans. Jimin had never seen in casual clothes back when they were… whatever they were.

Jimin’s breath went away. Jimin hated that Namjoon still took his breath away.

Namjoon caught his gaze. He smiled, a beautiful dimpled smile that haunted Jimin in his sleep, and walked up to the table.

Jimin swallowed. He pulled on his sweater, the Navy argyle one, that Seokjin said made him look older. The one that Seokjin had bought because Jimin had lied and said he had a first date.

“Park Jimin,” Namjoon said, in that deep voice of his that still sent shivers down Jimin’s spine, “It’s been a while.”

“10 years,” Jimin answered for him. They both stood up. Namjoon reached for a hug, but pulled away at the last minute. His smile faltered. Jimin stuck out his hand. Namjoon shook it. His large hands still enveloped Jimin’s smaller ones.

Namjoon coughed. He sat down. “How are you, my colleague tells me you’re top of your class in med school.”

“I am,” Jimin said, his voice smaller than he would have liked, “I have two years left in my program.”

“Do you like it?” Namjoon asked.

Namjoon had wrinkles in the corner of his eyes and some on his face. To Jimin, it looked like the history of the world was carved on his bones.

Jimin gave a small smile, “I love every minute of it.”

“That’s good,” Namjoon laughed lightly, then it tapered out.

The café was a quiet around them. It was an unpopular hour. Jimin found himself wishing there was some noise beside the music, an acoustic duet by an exo and a mamamoo member. Jimin twisted his cup in his hands. He tried not to look at Namjoon for too long.

“So you became a professor?” Jimin asked.

“You reignited my passion for research,” Namjoon answered honestly.

Jimin felt his face burn.

“When I resigned from your school, I called a friend and within a week I had an interview in his biology department.”

“At least something good came out of all of that,” Jimin said.

“Everything with you was good,” Namjoon said.

“Don’t say things like that,” Jimin snapped. “We were a short, illegal tryst for three months. I think you had me on my knees within a week of meeting me. You can’t tell me that you weren’t interested in sex from the beginning.” Jimin’s coffee cup shook in his hands.

Namjoon was quiet. He studied Jimin. “Why did you want to meet?”

Jimin took a deep breath. “I wanted to know if any of it was real.”

“Of course it was real.”

“No, not real as in what we did,” Jimin said, he released the cup. He hid his hands in his lap, “I wanted to know if you actually liked me. Or if you wanted to take advantage of the quiet gay kid with self esteem issues.”

Namjoon stared.

Jimin looked at the table.

Namjoon rubbed at the back of his neck, “That is a complicated question.”

That is not what Jimin wanted to hear. His shoulders slumped.

“I’ll admit, I was first interested in you physically. You were very cute and very small. You blushed easily. And I had never met someone so young who had read my research. Without realizing it, I had taken advantage of your idol worship of me.”

Jimin really hadn’t wanted to hear that. He did his best not to cry.

“It may not matter now, but I was in love with you by the time  we were caught. Once you had the confidence to look me in the eye and speak freely I started falling for your high pitched voice. And the way you viewed the worlds and shared your thoughts with me. I found myself absolutely mesmerized whenever you started talking.”

Jimin’s chest heated up. “Why didn’t you leave me a phone number, or some way to get in contact with you?”

“Because you didn’t need someone like me. You needed someone who was as in love with you as you were with biology. You should have had all the awkwardness of a first relationship. That month where you’re too scared to reach for his hand, or that first awkward blowjob where you use too much teeth and he would cum too fast. I had already taken all of that away from you. I didn’t want to take anymore of your youth.”

Jimin absorbed all of that information. Jimin chuckled, “The sad thing is you tried to leave me some of my youth, but you took it all with you.”

Namjoon read Jimin’s face. “I hope you didn’t want to start anew with me. Because as much as I would love that, I have to protest it.”

“I wanted closure. I never got that with you and it’s ruined every relationship I’ve ever tried since you,” Jimin said, his tone sad.

Namjoon reached out to touch Jimin, but he pulled just out of reach.

“Don’t, it would be too easy to fall back into you,” Jimin said.

Namjoon sighed. “I’ll head out first. It was nice seeing you again Jimin.”

“I wish I could say the same.”

Namjoon walked out. Once he was across the street and down the street Jimin let his composure slip. He cried. Hard.

But now he knew.

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in six hours. It's unedited. I've had the plot since September.
> 
> In case you can't tell, I don't like teacher/student fics, and I don't like power imbalances in a relationship.
> 
> Title borrowed from a loose translation of the latin phrase "Prima Facie"


End file.
